


Amata Bene

by SoHereWeAre



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe - Ancient Rome, Anal Sex, Ancient Rome, Banquets, Bisexuality, Blow Jobs, Brothels, Brother/Sister Incest, Childhood Trauma, Cunnilingus, Decadence, Doggy Style, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Exploration, F/F, F/M, Falling In Love, Forced Marriage, Forced Prostitution, Foursome - F/F/M/M, Hedonism, Incest, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Missionary Position, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Orgies, Past Abuse, Prostitution, Secret Identity, Sexual Slavery, Sexual Tension, Sibling Bonding, Sibling Incest, Threesome - F/F/M, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-03-14 18:02:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18953170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoHereWeAre/pseuds/SoHereWeAre
Summary: Set in Ancient Rome, 36 AD: Loras Tyrell and his sister Margaery are prostitutes in a brothel overseen by Petyr Baelish. It is the only life they have known and both have learned to adapt to their surroundings over the years, becoming the most sought-after sex workers in Rome.Sansa Stark is set to wed the much older Walder Frey in an alliance between the Stark and the Frey houses... a union Sansa resigns herself to until the handsome and charming Loras gifts her a rose and steals a kiss in the marketplace weeks before her wedding. From then on, Sansa's life and morals are turned upside down.(Repost)Marked as complete as this was reposted by request and I don't have the intention to finish it.





	1. Gift Of The White Rose

The melodic, sorrowful tune Sansa sang and strummed out on the lyre matched her mood as she sat on the balcony of her parents' countryside villa. The soft breeze teased the loose tendrils of her auburn hair and tickled her feet with the soft swaying of her light blue tunic frilled around her ankles. It was almost soothing across her gold colored sandals as she gazed out into the scenic land before her. It was a beautiful view, tranquil and sweet. A complete contrast to the city, where everything was so overcrowded and stank like feces and filth. It was the reason Mother and Father purchased this villa, for the lands surrounding it. A perfect place to raise a family in wealth yet simplicity. Sansa wished her life was so simple as the trees she focused on in the distance.

"Sansa?"

Her sister's hesitant voice, quiet for once, floated through the filmy draperies behind her. She turned around on her bench, abandoning the only joy she really had left. Even music could not console her now. Arya emerged through the drifting curtain panel. She stood, almost contrite, holding a matching blue palla.

"I - I was given permission for us to go to the forum. Bran and Rickon don't want to go, they are too busy playing soldiers." She advanced forward, offering the palla to Sansa. She wore one over her own head, a pale buttercream color. It suited Arya's darker looks. Sansa enviously raked her eyes over her sister's still boyish figure while cursing her own curvaceous one. All her recently developed woman's body meant was she was able to be married off to whomever Father saw fit. And sold her off he did.

"A chance to get away? Of course." Gracefully she rose to take the palla and drape it over her head. "But we take your horse, not mine."

"Agreed." She and Arya never agreed on much, but Arya knew Sansa was scared of her own horse. Arya could control hers with amazing skill. "What do we need to buy?"

"Just some fruit. For dinner. We need only to take a small sack."

"And why does Mother not send out one of our servants? Or even the boys?" Mother disapproved of them going out alone. A thought struck her. "You managed to beg and plead a case for us going, did you not?"

"I have no idea what you are talking about, Sansa." A small smile escaped her usually serious, long face. "Now, let's get on with it before the market becomes too busy. You know I hate crowds."

It was a beautiful summer day and it seemed to mock her as they made their way through their home and out to the stables so Arya could ready Snow, her black mare. How like Arya to name her opposite of what she looked like.Not that either of them have seen snow, but they have heard of it from the adventures of their Uncle. Sansa gulped as she always did before riding a horse. She preferred the carpentum but Father had taken it early this morning to sightsee with Lord Walder Frey, the owner of the lush lands adjacent to theirs. A retired Senator and nearly seventy years old, he was now Sansa's betrothed. Last night both families enjoyed a generous banquet and celebration in honor of the arrangement. Sansa seethed with betrayal and hurt behind a mask of courtesy as all of them laughed and rejoiced. Well, all of them besides Arya and her eldest brother Robb. Arya kept glancing at Lord Walder and grimacing down into her plate as if she disliked the meal. Robb shot murderous glances at both Walder and Father, his eyes softening as he caught her helpless stare. So much for Father marrying her off to someone who was gentle, strong, and kind. Well, she supposed Walder was too old to cause her too much pain but if the rumors were true, he was a lecherous old man with a penchant for very young girls and had odd tastes; what tastes those were Sansa never though to ask. Perhaps once they were married he would tire quickly of her now womanly curves and cheat with a slave.

Sansa was not entirely ignorant of what was to come after they were wed. Even as her skin crawled with revulsion and terror, she knew there was nothing she could do about it. The only small reassurance was that Father would not tolerate her being abused. As fathers went, he was better than most who would not care how their daughter was treated as long as the marriage was an advantage to political or personal gain. Lord Frey might be a old lech, but he was a wealthy one with a strong name and he never failed to treat her with a almost a deferential respect when he came calling. He had no sons, either, since they had all died in various battles and skirmishes, one dying of an unnamed disease. If Sansa could manage to produce a son she would be revered; it was known Walder desired a legitimate male heir even more than a young, nubile wife. It was still frightening to imagine that old man entering her and pumping his wrinkled body against her but since he was old perhaps he would not last very long, in bed or in life. And if he respected her as his wife as he did now, she could tolerate a few minutes of dread.

It was a shame to waste her youth and beauty on an old man that would probably never truly love her, though, and her emotions teetered between meek acceptance and panic. Her young heart ached for the romance in all the stories her servants liked to recite and swoon over. She loved especially the story of Cupid and Psyche, even going so far to pray to Cupid on a nightly basis for her to find her own true love. She prayed to all the Gods last night to deliver her from this nightmare, wishing fervently at least one of them would listen. Awakening, she had hoped Walder would have died from heart failure in the middle of the night in his guest room, but alas, it was not to be. Instead she allowed a respectful, wrinkly, dry kiss to her cheek and steeled herself from cringing away. She glanced over to Robb, standing behind Walder; the disgust flashed in his bright blue eyes and she could not help but notice the contrast between her handsome brother and her death-warmed-over fiancee. Why could Walder not be young and vibrant and handsome like Robb? For a moment she was envious of Jeyne, the woman Robb married last year, but then suddenly felt ashamed. Jeyne had taken a fever sickness and died, leaving her young, wealthy brother with an empty home in the far north; no wife, no children. Still, he was a catch as a Senator's son and a military man, and even though he was rarely at his estate, there would be no doubt he will marry again.

Yet it wasn't _his_ marriage that was forthcoming.

In three weeks' time she would be Walder's bride and there was nothing to do but cry or sing the days away. She dared not protest to her Father. It was a daughter's duty to obey her father and she dared not speak out...

Her thoughts were far away as she climbed on behind Arya while her sister bitched about her gripping her too tightly on the shoulders. Sansa was always so afraid she would fall off but she never did. Arya was an expert horseman even as young as she was. She could handle any horse better than Robb and even Father.

Inadvertently she laid her head on her sister's thin shoulder, trying to seek some comfort from her strong, determined sister as they galloped away from the villa towards the local city of Essos. The ride on Arya's horse was about twenty minutes, long enough for Sansa's thighs to ache. She rarely rode horseback and now cursed that fact but she wouldn't miss the opportunity to leave the now oppressive house.

Sansa loved the marketplace with its hustle and bustle in stark contrast to her home life. While the villa provided airy solitude, the forum gave Sansa a taste of how life was for the common people: crowded, disorganized, yet somehow more free. Usually she would take in all the sights and sounds, from children laughing to adults haggling and bargaining, and interest herself in the offerings at the jewelry and imported fabrics stand, but today her melancholy heart only wanted to dwell on what life she was now sentenced to. It was a sentence of death to her youth, death to her dreams and girlish notions. Suddenly she was afraid. Afraid she would wilt away and die without ever being in love. Oh, she loved her family and her friends. She even loved some of their servants who have been with them since before she was born. She loved all of them and she loved life but she died a little inside every time she caught Walder Frey's beady, barely hidden lustful eyes drinking her in. He might outwardly respect her but he was a man after all, and what old man wouldn't be looking forward to bedding a young, virginal beauty? Again her thoughts imagined him naked and she shuddered.

Arya wandered over to the fresh fruits, ready to argue about prices - Arya excelled at arguing - leaving Sansa to look over the jewelry offerings, her eyes falling on a rose-carved bracelet. So silly, really, for Arya to be like that, considering the Starks were one of the richest families in the entire Roman Empire. It was just so Arya to want to fight over unnecessary things. Sansa wanted to fight, too. She wanted to fight her betrothal. Yet she knew she could not. Sighing, she shifted her palla and it fell. Usually she would hastily whip it back up over her head but she lifted her chin instead, defiant. She was going to her own symbolic death soon; what difference did one slight to propriety matter?

"There should no shame in allowing such fire-kissed beauty to be seen," a low, sensuous male voice drifted over her ears. "Would that this humble gift find a home in those strands?"

Startled, before she could even open her mouth to reply, she felt a thin stem weaving its way through her thick hair by her right ear, secured. Her pale, delicate hand flew up to withdraw what was inserted: a freshly bloomed, single white rose, and she tore her eyes away from it to meet the man. He was already walking away; a tall, slim but well-built man in a simple, short, white tunic with a mop of loose, light-brown waves. He walked gracefully, almost as if he were gliding in a dance, his hands clasped behind his back. It was as if he never made the insolent action of touching a noble woman. He appeared neither common nor noble and her heart beat fast against her chest. She gripped the rose tightly, noticing there were no thorns.

Sansa started to follow him, unglued from her spot in her determination to - what, thank him? See his face? She ignored Arya's protesting of her going off too far on her own and slipped through the crowds of people. She stopped cold when she found her rose-giver sampling weaponry, standing apart and testing it into the air. He swung a short but heavy sword, much like the Roman soldiers used; Robb had a sword like that and wielded it with the same sureness as the man in front of her. He did it with such ease it impressed her, although she was more impressed by the defined muscles in his arms flexing as he struck an invisible opponent. 

"You will never buy one, Loras, so put it back where you found it," complained the dark-haired man behind the counter.

 _Loras_. Sansa mouthed the name, then bit her lip.

"You never know, Gen. Your lessons have inspired me." 

She could see his face now, smooth yet manly. Handsome with an almost gentle and dreamy look about him. His eyes sparkled an unusual golden color, mesmerizing even from where Sansa stood. His lips were pointed in the corners as he smiled, his bottom lip full, and his eyebrows arched perfectly.

"And what exactly would you use it for? Your only sword of use and value is what lies between your legs." That brought an odd grin to Loras. Sansa noted his perfectly white teeth, nearly all straight in line and pearl-like. Unusual for someone who was not wealthy.

"Loras!" A young woman approached him and slid her arm through his, pulling him close. For some reason Sansa's heart sank. "You ran away from me, dear brother. I want to go back now. I am so tired and I must rest before my next appointment."

Brother.

Why was she so relieved?

"Go ahead without me, Margie. I will be along. I promise." A brotherly kiss on the girl's forehead brought acquiescence on the girl's part as she left. Sansa now noticed how much they looked alike, even though her eyes were more brown than gold. They looked more the same than even she and Robb did, and everyone always commented on their red hair, blue eyes, flawless skin, and angular noses, declaring they could be twins, even though they were three years apart.

Loras gave the sword back to his friend with an expression on his face almost like regret as he walked away, hands once again behind his back. If she let him out of her sight now while he was walking into the crowd where it was thickest, she would never be able to thank him for his gift. A proper noble woman always remembered her courtesies and a streak of bold daring ran through her. Maybe if she was not to be married soon she would have not taken the chance, but what did she have to lose now? A mild flirtation was nothing more horrifying than to being married to a man old enough to be her grandfather...

"Sir!" She called out to him, and more than several men turned appreciatively in her direction. _Loras. His name was Loras_. "Loras!" It felt strange on her tongue, even more strange how she savored it. "Loras?"

He stopped then, standing in front of a space between two open shops before pivoting. She was able to reach him in seconds and caught her breath. He was slightly taller than Robb, taller than Father. His skin was just as smooth and flawless as she thought. He smelled of the faint scent of sandalwood and soap. A smile formed as his eyebrows shot up, inquisitive.

"Good Sir, I -I want to thank you for your gift." She attempted to look regal and formal and knew she failed miserably. "It is beautiful."

"The pleasure is all mine. Venus and Vesta are nothing compared to you, my White Rose."

"Do you mock the Gods?" She felt herself blushing furiously. His compliment was bold but it made her feel weak, appreciated as a woman, even if he was being frivolous. She's received compliments before, but something about how it rolled off his tongue made her feel different.

"No, not at all. Your beauty mocks them and they pale in comparison." He looked her up and down in a way she did not resent. It was as if he was appreciating her beauty without being a lech about it. "And I should not be daring to speak to a noblewoman."

"It is no crime to speak." Truth be told, she wanted him to talk more. Rather, she wanted more of him. This stranger, this man. This _Loras_. She felt brave for some reason. "But you do not have to speak, if you fear it."

"No?" He stared into her eyes and she felt herself go weak. The soreness of her thighs was forgotten in favor of a warming sensation between her legs. She couldn't look away and his golden eyes seemed to darken immediately. He was so strangely handsome in an almost delicate way, even as she noted his broad shoulders and sculpted body.

"No," she whispered, shocked when he reached out for her hand and disbelieving when he led her into the space between the shops. She swallowed, leaning up against the dirty wall, careless of her gown. Passerbys ignored them, caught up in the hustle and bustle of the market.

"You know my name, little Rose, may I have yours?" He did not move against her but held her hand tenderly, his other hand reaching to lightly touch a strand of hair. His hands were soft; not the hands of a common man then. Could he be a noble? If so, why was he dressed as a slave would be? She did not know. She did not know anything except his touch was so thrilling and her heart raced.

"Sansa." She blurted it out very unladylike. Something Arya would do. "Sansa Stark."

"Stark?" She saw his face change, but only for a moment. Then he smiled gently, his full lips a dark pink. "Forgive me, my Lady, for my forwardness." He tried to withdraw his hands but she did not let him, dropping the rose to the ground to grab hold. He was stronger and he wrenched away. 

"Loras -"

One heartbeat and his lips were on hers and she melted into the wall, dizzy. His mouth was soft and careful; it was a gentle kiss. Her very first one. The feel of his lips parting hers and his pliable hands cupping her face, skimming her cheeks, made her feel like collapsing. Was it her own breathy moan she heard as her legs started to buckle? Her hands flew up to caress his thick locks. This was honey, this was molten gold, as gold as this Loras' eyes. His hands stole around her waist to hold her up and she wished he would press his body hard against hers instead. Maybe once, just this once in her life, she could enjoy the touch of a man. One sweet stolen moment to savor through her whole unhappy married life.

And the Gods be good; Loras knew how to kiss.

He broke away sharply and she tried to recover her senses as she heard Arya's cutting voice calling her name. She could still feel his lips on hers and she dared to look at him. He was staring at her, his chest rapidly heaving as his tongue skimmed his lower lip. He picked up her rose and once again tucked it behind her ear, once again slipping away from her, out into the crowd. Her eyes desperately tried to follow him but he was fading into the throng of people.

"Sansa!" Arya appeared as Loras had turned right. Sansa tried to catch her breath and looked guiltily at her sister. From the way she was looking at her, she knew Arya saw what had happened.

"That man gave me a rose." She tapped lightly on the rose as if in confirmation. "I was thanking him."

"Yeah, thanking him in a dark space between shops, you mean? Sansa, did he take advantage of you?"

"No! Of course not. He -" He kissed me and I loved it. "He was a gentleman."

"Sure he was. Please, Sansa, a gentleman? Not his type. I'm glad I caught him when I did."

"Not his type?" 

"Sansa." Arya sighed and took her hands, which were trembling. "Did you not notice the thin black collar around his neck, with the loop on the side?"

Sansa thought for a moment. Yes, there had been a small band around his neck. His beautiful, graceful neck. She assumed it was jewelry and unfashionable jewelry at that.

"Sansa, he's a whore. A sex worker. That collar is exclusive to Baelish's Bath House. The brothel just outside of the city. Father could have him killed for touching you."

It was just a kiss. Just a small gift of a rose and a chance encounter but for some reason Sansa's heart seemed to shatter as her mind tried to grasp what Arya was telling her. All of a sudden she couldn't help but start to cry, leaning helplessly into her sister's shoulder. Thankfully Arya did not admonish her for being a silly, foolish girl and instead she felt hands awkwardly surrounding her in a hug.


	2. An Unfamiliar Feeling

"You're going to market again, brother? There are only so many times you can play with a sword."

Margaery laughed at her own clever double meaning as Loras adjusted his tunic and ran long fingers through his curled hair. He smiled, sharing in the jest as he slipped on his sandals and reached for his leather belt. His sister lounged on his low floor bed strewn with colorful plush pillows and fine silk sheets. She was beautiful, her dark brown tresses set off by her dark purple see-through silks, gold bands at her wrists and a thin black collar at her throat. She was dressed as if she were readying to service a patron and not spending a lazy morning in her brother's sleeping room. Both he and Margaery had their own private chambers, separate from the servicing rooms, which was a rarity. Most of the sex workers had a cramped room with no more than a stone bed solidified into the wall, covered with soft blankets. Non-elaborate services were conducted there and usually the johns were of a lower class, only able to afford the most basic of sex acts. Loras and his sister were the crown jewels of Baelish's Bath House and were afforded their own luxurious sleeping quarters separate from the room they conducted their business transactions in. Loras and Margaery's rooms flanked the space that held every debauchery a man could think of, accessed by a small door on either side and a large peephole for observation in both of their rooms. They knew more often than not their Master liked to slip into one of their rooms in order to partake of the activities there, either to ensure the requested acts happened or to take his own pleasure.

"I've been summoned to speak with Petyr first." Loras sighed. "I think he is taking issue with me being away from the brothel too much. I don't see why. It's always early morning when no one wants to fuck anyway."

"Oh, dear, brother, Baelish is just worried you will work independently and not give him his dues, or else leave entirely."

"And where would I go? Besides, even though Baelish pockets most of the earnings, we are still left with some coin to do with as we please."

Margaery shrugged. It was not her style to dwell on the logistics of things. Loras loved his sister but wondered if she wanted more out of life than to be purchased on an almost daily basis. He knew she had ambition and that usually took the form of being the best and most sought-after prostitute in the house, or else being able to enchant a rich patron so much that they fall in love with her and propose marriage. Otherwise, she seemed content where she was. 

This life was all they knew from the time they had been purchased by Peytr Baelish at auction. They had been mere children, the only survivors of their house. Their father had rebelled against the Emperor and paid dearly for it as Roman soldiers laid waste to their home. Everyone had been brutalized and killed as Loras clung to his sister. He still remembers the terror in her eyes as she dug her fingers so hard into his flesh that it stung. Their tender ages of ten and nine would have not stopped the soldiers from violating them but one of them ordered the others to keep them intact as they would fetch a greater price as slaves. Loras had been lucky to receive only one blow to the face to prompt him to release Margaery from his arms, which he only ended up doing when three soldiers had to pull him away. The sorrow at losing their parents was nothing compared to the fear at auction, standing hand-in-hand with his trembling sister, trying to shut his eyes to the leering, lustful bidders while silently praying to all the gods that he would not be separated from his sister. Then Baelish appeared, polished and smooth and seemingly calm, his looks unassuming and non-threatening. His voice had been as perfect as his looks and his hands were not unkind as he led them away to their new home. All of the workers took to them immediately, even the younger ones who were not much other than they were at the time; and soon they became the darlings of the brothel. 

Over the course of a few years their days consisted of menial tasks such as cleaning the rooms, carrying soap and towels to the baths, assisting in bathing patrons, grooming the dogs, or serving meals and wine to residents and all their guests, while being exposed to the sights and sounds of prostitution, until their young minds accepted it all as their normal world. Loras knew they were lucky to have Baelish wait until they were slightly older to introduce them to performing actual sex acts; no doubt anyone else who would have purchased them would have them raped that same night, and for this act of consideration he was forever grateful to the man.

Then came the lessons from Baelish and Loras and Margaery were both quick and perfect learners, perfecting each sexual act as they were introduced: save one. Although taught what to do when the time came, their virginity had been protected and prized until it could be sold to the wealthiest of buyers. Loras had been first as he was the eldest and pure young men were in more of a demand than a girl; it was a well-known Senator and his wife who had paid handsomely for the entire night. The man had not been kind and Loras, despite the oils, had torn and bled while the wife lay under him, demanding her husband fuck him harder so Loras' cock could be pushed even deeper into her with each thrust while she tore at his hair in a screaming lust. Loras, in pain but accepting it for what it was, could not help but think of the time when it would be Margaery's turn and he wondered how he could prevent her from such an ordeal. He did not cry during the session but he cried in his bed that night as he thought of his sister having to experience what he had.

Eventually he and Margaery became the most sought-after of all Baelish's whores, whether separate or together. The high demand was due to their sibling status coupled with their beautiful looks that mirrored each other, and patrons paid a hefty sum to watch their fetish of a brother and sister performing before their very eyes before joining in. Because of their popularity, Baelish allowed them more privileges and eventually took Loras in as a confidant and somewhat business partner. Baelish never let him forget he was a bought slave, his own property to do with as he chose, but there was a odd understanding between them once Loras had become a full-fledged man that perhaps he would take over the business. Loras and Margaery would not be desirable for too long and the clients would want younger fare - indeed, some already did - and Baelish would not be around forever. Still, Loras would have hoarded his money to eventually break away with Margaery, except that this was all they knew, and Margaery didn't want to leave the luxury and decadence of the brothel that she called home.

Indeed, Baelish's brothel was the best in the Roman Empire. At least, it was rumored to be. It was clean and beautiful with decorative accents and detailed architecture and offered comfort and opulence even as every depraved act one could dream of took place inside it. Guards stood or sat at the gateway for security to screen anyone entering. The front area always boasted of whores dallying and lounging seductively on couches or chairs in rich colors of purple, golds, and greens, sensually greeting each customer before they were guided off to the side to request and pay for services and subject themselves to being checked for visible signs of venereal diseases. It was a requirement for anyone involved in sexual activity to bathe beforehand, made more pleasant at the hands of nubile young men or women, whichever gender was preferred. Beyond the baths were the rooms of varying sizes and capabilities, with the individual prostitutes' cramped quarters on the second floor. Loras and Margaery took permanent residence on the ground level in the back, their rooms private. No one besides Baelish was allowed to enter unless invited, not even a paying customer; that was what their shared room in between them was for. 

Margaery always preferred to relax in Loras' room instead of her own as she was doing presently. Loras didn't mind. Sometimes after the clients had been satisfied and Margaery was still drying from her hot bath, she would sink down into bed and wait for him. The one comfort Loras still had in his life was his sister and after he combed out her long, soft hair, they would fall asleep curled into each other like they had done as children. He loved Margaery but it was not a romantic love. Romantic love was not something he experienced or something he would know if it even happened. Indeed, he wasn't even sure it existed.

All he knew was that he was now enraptured with a red-haired beauty named Sansa Stark.

He shouldn't be so taken with her and he should just leave her be, but he couldn't resist her. It had been two weeks since he first spotted her in the marketplace and the desire to be with her grew with each passing day. Her hair was the flame and he was the moth that was inexplicably drawn to her. Loras has seen many beautiful women in various states of dress and undress but Sansa had more than a pretty face and a lithe body. There was an air of sweet innocence in her tempered with a spirit of one who was seeking to break free from her bonds. It was an intoxicating combination and at first glance he was consumed with a desire to protect her from the lust-ridden gazes of the men in the marketplace. So, he followed her as closely as he dared and would have left it at that, but the need to speak to her, move close enough to her to smell her was so strong he gifted her with the white rose behind her ear.

He never thought a highborn lady would follow after him and call him by name. When she did he acted without thought and kissed her. Her lips were better than any wine he ever drank and the touch of her hands and mouth, combined with the feel of her soft face, aroused him to the point of aching. That his arousal should come so quickly shocked him. Granted, he knew what to think of to make himself hard for a client if that was what they wanted of him, but that it should happen without thought amazed him, unnerved him. He hadn't meant to kiss her at all, but when she revealed her name his heart had sunk like a rock and he took the one and only chance he would ever have to kiss her and still escape with his life.

Or so he thought.

Thanks to Gendry, his friend and occasional visitor to the brothel, he was able to see Sansa again. Gendry had arrived at the brothel with a piece of parchment soon after the marketplace meeting. On it was a beautifully written request to see him. She must have found out who he was and where he was by asking Gendry and he was shocked she would want to see him after knowing what he did for a living. Loras was thankful for the early education he received at his family estate, as Baelish was not one to promote reading and writing in his establishment; after all, that is not what they were there to learn and master, and those skills would make a worker more tempted to find other means of living.

He couldn't explain the excitement that coursed through his veins even as he scribbled a short reply accompanied by another rose, this one a tiny pink bud. It was daring and fraught with consequences if he would happen to be caught. It would mean immediate death. Yet he did not hesitate to rush Gendry off with his note that agreed he would see his Rose again.

See her again he did, with the aid of Gendry and Sansa's sister, Arya.

And then again.

And again.

Over the course of nearly three weeks he was able to clandestinely see her, walk with her, sit with her. Gendry and Arya acted as chaperones as well as guards as he strolled with Sansa through the forum, usually electing to sit on the bench behind the Blacksmith's shop. It wasn't the most lovely of spots but it was safe and out of the way. Gendry offered sanctuary inside the shop but Sansa politely declined and Loras understood why, even though it would have offered them better protection. At least out here if she was recognized by anyone, she could make excuses for sitting on a bench, such as being in need of rest. If she were caught inside a humble blacksmith's common shop, there would be no explaining that away and her reputation as well as her virtue would be compromised. Unmarried noble women did not do such things. Then again, highborn ladies did not sit with prostitutes or allow them to hold their slender, pale hands or kiss their pink, tender lips.

He found he enjoyed learning the little things about her. She was an accomplished singer and played the lyre. Her favorite sibling was not the dark haired sassy girl that was helping her but her older brother who looked like her. Her favorite treat was a lemon cake and she once dreamed of being a Senator until she realized her lot as a female was she was to eventually be married off instead. He noticed how sad she looked when she told him that, looking away and biting her lower lip. He did not press her to elaborate and wondered if her father was intending on making a match for her. No doubt he was; Sansa was of age and she was breathtakingly lovely. She could not expect to remain unmarried and at home forever. The thought saddened him more than he cared to admit.

Through their meetings Loras talked very little, preferring to ask her questions and listen to her sensual voice.He was fascinated with her. She knew he was a whore yet it seemed to matter little to her and that in itself was puzzling. He skimmed over much of his life, only telling her briefly without much detail as to how he ended up with Baelish. He did not know how much knowledge she had of what goes on in a brothel and he did not want to divulge it. It wasn't out of shame - Loras knew no shame in what he did, as it was all he knew - but, rather, it was out of deference for her upbringing and obvious naivety. He tried to imagine Sansa attending one of their banquet orgies and could not do it, unless it was to picture her running out of the room traumatized in tears. Such fleshy desires were not meant for her. She was destined for a life of a noblewoman. Then again, Loras had seen noblewomen at the brothel and he serviced more than a few along the way. Most came in veiled in secrecy, some opting to wear masks, but all paid handsomely for their cunts to be licked and their asses to be spanked, among other requests. Loras only guessed that their husbands lacked severely in pleasure skills, or didn't care enough about their wives to make sex a pleasurable experience for them.

Sansa. Her scent, her voice, her little peals of laughter captivated him. She was a breath of fresh air and when he returned to the brothel it seemed stale and colorless despite all its glittering adornments. He thought of her through the sex-charged nights and fell asleep in the mornings with visions of her in his head. Margaery had shaken him awake a few times, annoyed and reprimanding him for waking her up while muttering Sansa's name. Margaery did not care one wit about his new infatuation, except when it disturbed her rest.

"Loras."

He glanced at Margaery and there was worry etched on her face in tiny lines on her forehead. 

"Yes Margie, what is it?" He smiled down at her, trying to ease her concern.

"What are you doing?"

She said it softly as she reached up to him and he sank into the bed beside her, allowing her to brush her tapered fingers across tousled curls. Margarey had a hardness about her but she allowed the gentle side to show in the privacy of their rooms. Sometimes Loras could see the scared nine-year old girl clinging to him for dear life inside the sexual siren she became and it squeezed at his heartstrings.

"I don't know," he whispered softly, before planting a kiss on her cheek. Honestly, he didn't know. "I'll return in a couple of hours, I promise, after I talk to Petyr and visit the Forum."

"You need your rest, brother. We have a massive banquet celebration tomorrow night. Apparently someone very wealthy is getting married and he wants the whole house to cater to him and his companions. You have not been getting enough sleep and you need to be at your best. The price has been paid in advance."

"Margie, I have never failed in an appointment." 

"No, you haven't." She looked at him levelly. "You've also not been infatuated with a slip of a girl, either, yet here you are."

There was nothing to say to that but to kiss her once more and rise from the bed. she sighed but didn't protest his leaving as he made his way out of his room and down the hall to Petyr Baelish's rooms. The door was closed so Loras knocked softly.

"Enter."

Loras obeyed his owner's raspy command. Petyr was sitting straight-backed on a low red-padded bench trimmed in gold, his legs apart and tunic opened. Between his thighs crouched a young girl with golden blonde locks encased in pink silks. He could see only the back of her head as it bobbed up and down slowly, soft gagging noises filling the room. She heard Loras from behind her and she stopped, releasing suction with a faint pop before sitting back on her haunches. Petyr grabbed a fistful of her hair with one hand and shoved her head back down with the other.

"Did I tell you to stop? Never stop unless told. You must ignore any distractions around you. It is not about anyone else around you. It is not about you. It is about the man who wants you sucking his cock and paid a good coin for it." 

The girl obeyed and Petyr grunted his approval before looking at Loras.

"Ah, Loras. I only need to speak with you for a moment." For a man receiving fellatio he was quite normal as if it was business as usual. "I have noticed you disappearing nearly daily as of late. Is there something I need to be aware of?"

"No. Not really." It would do no good to explain he was enamored of a highborn girl. "The weather has been beautiful and I've been wanting to enjoy being outside more. I am never gone for long and I always wait to leave when there is no one here to service."

"Mmm. Fair enough. Ros noticed you haven't seemed like yourself lately and you were distracted while you both worked on Senator Brontus last week. Should I be worried?"

Loras felt irritation as he shook his head no. Ros was a highly competitive whore. She was touted for accepting the hardest of requests and completing them with zeal but she was jealous of Margaery and - to some extent - of him as well.

"Good. You and your sister have been requested in private after the feast."

Normally Loras would nod his assent but his jaw clenched and he lowered his eyes to keep whatever was in them shielded from Petyr's gaze. He stood where he was as he was not given leave to go. Petyr's hand jerked on the girl's hair and she shrieked; this time it was Petyr who yanked her off his cock, followed by a sharp slap to her face. Loras knew what that felt like; it was not meant to make a mark. It was meant to humiliate. To train.

"I told you to not stop. Someone pulls your hair, you accept it and keep the rhythm going. Now you are going to accept it when I cum in your mouth. Do not let any of it escape your lips. Swallow it all, do not gag or recoil. Suck harder as if it is the best thing you've ever tasted. Understand?"

The girl nodded and continued with amazing aplomb, her hands holding onto Petyr's thighs, caressing them. Her head bobbed faster now and his face twitched only slightly to show some inkling of pleasure, his hands more kind now as he pushed her hair away from her face before holding her head again.

"Yes. That is a good girl." His release came and he made a hard thrust. Loras waited as the whore-in-training dutifully swallowed while the sucking noise filled the room. He recognized Petyr's satisfied sigh as the blonde sucked off of him, circling her tongue around to make sure she didn't miss a drop. Almost reverently she backed away and pulled his robe down, looking up for approval. "Good. Good. Still much more work needs to be done and I do not see fellatio as being your strong suit. We will try something very different now. Get on your hands and knees facing me, pull your gown up over your waist and wait."

She backed away for room and did as she was told, exposing a full, lush ass in front of Loras. From where he stood he could see her pussy lips glistening with slick. She had obviously enjoyed what she was doing.

"Very good, Loras. You may go but I give you only an hour. We need to prepare and there is so much that needs to be done. Do you understand?"

An hour. Only an hour to see her.

Deflated, Loras had no choice but to nod.

"Very well. Leave me to my training and I will see you in an hour. Leave the door open."

Loras bowed and pivoted around, sauntering out of the room. It was hard to hide his disappointment as he made the way down the hall. As he reached the dual doors to the reception area he heard a sharp whistle and Baelish's most prized Molossian hound obediently trotted into the room before Baelish slammed the door.

The reception room was bare except for Gendry, who sat in one of the plush green chairs. He was surprised to see him and then froze at the contrite look in his blue eyes. He held out a piece of parchment that Loras wordlessly snatched from him while Gendry started running his hands through his coal-black hair. 

It took seconds to scan but it seemed like an eternity before it processed through his brain. There was no salutation for safety reasons but the message was clear.

I regret we cannot meet again. I am to marry in a few days' time. I thank you for your kindness. I shall remember you always. Deepest regards, Your Rose. 

Married. No doubt to some wealthy young man who would deem himself lucky to be assigned such a beautiful, lovely creature. She would warm her husband's bed every night and give him sons. Loras' heart felt strange and suddenly he felt like raging or crying or maybe even defying Baelish and taking a horse to go find her. Instead he stood, trying to compose himself while dealing with the odd feeling in his chest, unable to define his first case of romantic heartbreak.


	3. Through The Wall Mine Eyes Did See

"Sansa."

A light touch to her shoulder stirred her, brought her out of a sudden slumber and she winced, curling up tighter in a ball. She whimpered a little and buried her face into the pillow. After tossing and turning in her bed, knowing it was the last night as an unmarried girl in her parents' home, she had fallen into blissful nothingness. Now someone was threatening her remaining hours of sweet oblivion.

"Sansa, wake up."

The touch turned insistent now, rough, and she begrudgingly turned to face the annoyance: Arya, her face framed by the soft light of a candle. It wasn't quite pitch in the room which meant they weren't as far into the night as Sansa thought. 

"Go 'way, Arya. Leave me be." She muttered the words and tried to turn back into her fetal position but her sister was relentless.

"Damn it, Sansa. Will you get up?"

"No." Arya had been trying to cheer her up and no doubt she was here for a last-minute attempt and Sansa was in no mood for it. She felt alone, trapped, abandoned by her whole family. As much as Arya and Robb hated the idea of her marrying old Frey, they didn't protest to Mother and Father. What if Robb had to now marry an old hag, or Arya had to marry Frey instead? Maybe then they would find their voices then...

"Sansa, there isn't much time." She caught an urgency in Arya's voice. "Get up. I have your sandals and your cloak here. Put them on. Now."

"What -"

"Just do it." Arya shoved her items at her and pulled on her arm. Hazily Sansa obeyed, concerned at the tone of her sister's voice. No sooner did she cloak herself and slip into her sandals, Arya grabbed her by her arm, shoving a small bag in her hand. "This is from Robb. Let's go, Sansa. We need to go on foot until we reach the trail beyond the trees. Come on."

Confused, she let Arya stealthily lead her out of the house into the night. Arya kept looking back as Sansa opened the grey silk bag, gasping at the all gold coins. Once they were out of earshot, Arya's voice chattered with urgency.

"We can't see you marry Frey, Sansa. Robb tried to approach Father with the horrible rumors about your betrothed but Father would have none of it. Robb is giving you this money and I am giving you a safe place to hide until we can think of something. No doubt we will have to claim you were kidnapped so we need you to go someplace no one would ever think to look for you."

Sansa's heart beat fast and her hands felt clammy as Arya pulled her around the trees, coming out the other side to a waiting Gendry on a white horse. What Arya and Robb were doing... they would be severely punished, and not just by Father, if anyone knew. For a moment she stared dumbly at Gendry who offered a small smile before his whole face beamed at Arya. Oh no, she thought. Gendry has fallen in love with my sister and that is as doomed as -

Loras.

"Sansa." Gendry outstretched his hand. "We don't have much time."

She had to make a choice. Now. She could either run back to the house and crawl back into her misery and upcoming marriage or she could turn her family and her own world upside down in this risky act of defiance. Kidnapping a Senator's daughter meant soldiers scouring the country to find her. Her poor mother, her younger brothers, they would be so worried... yet her heart hardened instantly. Father did not care for her well being and neither did her mother. Her younger brothers ignored her most of the time, too caught up in their child's play. Arya and Robb were giving her a chance. A chance at life -

She clasped Gendry's strong hand and he helped her up onto the horse. Now was not the time for shyness as she wrapped her arms around Gendry, clinging tightly. If she held too hard he did not show it, and Arya possessively moved closer on tiptoe, shockingly rising on tiptoe for a kiss, which Sansa loosened her hold immediately so Gendry could lean down to touch his lips with her sister's. It was brief, thankfully, and Sansa resumed her death grip.

"Go." Arya moved back. "Hurry. Sansa, I will send word to you soon. Go!"

"Thank you, Arya." Sansa's eyes brimmed with tears as Arya smiled back, her grey eyes determined. She gave a slight nod and Gendry spurred his horse, taking off at a breakneck speed into the night.

 

********************

 

Sansa shivered in disbelief and embarrassment as Gendry guided her through the entrance of Baelish's Bath House, an establishment forbidden to her in every way possible. She had no idea what time it was, perhaps already midnight, as she made her way post drunken men hanging on perfumed girls and boys. She tried to keep her eyes downcast and her head covered as she meekly let Gendry quickly usher her through the grand foyer and down a a corridor. Should could hear revelries taking place in some private area and she refused to look above to the second story, but her tender hears could not shut out the unmistakable moans and cries from the tiny rooms where only thick curtains lent any privacy. She wondered how Gendry was able to move so easily past guards and didn't much approve of the thought of her sister's infatuation spending enough time in a brothel as to not constitute so much as a blinking eye as he pulled along a girl into the depths of the tawdriness.

Gendry stopped short at a door, producing a key from the small bag he had tied to his side. With trembling hands she took it, looking up at him with questioning, fearful eyes.

"This is a key no one is supposed to have," he explained in a whisper, looking around. "Once inside, lock the door. If you hear anyone opening this door, there is a screen you can hide behind. This is Loras' room, Sansa, you will be safe here. No one is allowed to enter except Loras and Baelish. Both are occupied at the moment... entertaining a huge banquet, meant to last through till sunrise. I have not had the chance to tell Loras yet even though I have tried. He has not been alone the entire day."

"Thank you." It was all she could manage before biting her lip, fighting back tears. She would have liked to think that Arya arranged this because Loras was here but she knew it was because no one would think to look for Sansa Stark in a brothel. Her fingers shook but she managed to unlock the door and slip inside, Gendry close behind her. She felt faint as Gendry rushed into the dark room to hurriedly light a tiny oil lamp sitting on a small shelf just inside the door. It wasn't a lot of light but at least she could see now. 

Wordlessly, Gendry rushed out and made sure the door was securely shut from the other side and she scrambled to lock it, turning around and pressing her back against the door, her hand clenching the handle so tightly it hurt.

She wanted to sink down to the floor and cry at the sudden realization of the severity over what she has done but instead her eyes traveled over Loras' room. The low bed was covered in the finest of colorful silks and decorative pillows and her eyes lingered for a moment, imagining Loras sleeping there. A slim couch and matching footstool in pale marble with dark green cushions sat across the way next to a tiny ornate table with two small drawers. The slim closet decorated with entwining stone roses no doubt held his belongings, and the modesty screen that Gendry mentioned stood in the corner. The scent was faint of sandalwood and soap; the scent of Loras.

She barely had time to take in her surroundings before she heard a man's voice, an older man's voice, loud and boisterous, and realized it was coming from the room next door. There was a laugh and she heard the creaking of a door, and an odd, dull thud. It was like the walls were papyrus-thin.

Shrugging off her cloak and slipping out of her shoes, she padded over to the wall which was decorated in elaborate scroll work, and her eyebrows raised as she approached it. She was intending to press her ear to eavesdrop - she had always been a curious girl - but she took a step back and blinked as if she was making sure what she was look at was real.  
There were three circular holes, much like the other circles in the scroll work, but these were almost like a cork or a plug, complete with a handle. They were diagonal, at three different heights. The middle one was almost at her eye level and without thinking, she twisted the knob and the plug came out soundlessly. It didn't matter if it made any noise anyway because her gasping was louder than any cork popping. 

It was a peephole. A peephole into the room next to her. 

She stumbled back, horror-stricken as the light from the room nearly blinded her, in contrast to the dim atmosphere from Loras' oil lamp. The circle was large; one eye could more than easily take in the whole room and how was it no one in that room would notice? Something in her mind told her place the cork back in and she nearly did, but she froze when she heard an unfortunately very familiar voice.

"Now we can let the real festivities begin, eh? I've had enough food and drink and music. Ah those little pretty girls stroking me under the table was nice, no doubt, and watching the fucking was nice enough. I paid a high price for some private matters that I much prefer."

"As you wish, my Master." A girl's seductive tone floated through the wall. "And what is your delight?"

Sansa clenched the cork in her hands. She willed herself to move forward. Part of her wanted to see, part of her didn't want to know.

"I thought Baelish schooled you beforehand on what my tastes are," the patron snarled. "You're no virgin, girl, which leaves a sour taste in my mouth. And you are too old for me. I can see your cunt hair under that gown. Hair there. So disgusting. I prefer my girls with hair not yet grown and tits not yet full. But you will have to do because you are the only whore here with a whore brother."

"I can remedy that for you, my Lord" The voice was silky, unperturbed by the insults. "Would you like for me to shave for you?"

"You aren't leaving this room. Waste of time." Sansa heard a gulping sound and a clank. "This damned wine is the best in Rome and beyond. I am getting too far gone in my cups, whore, and I mean to enjoy you and your brother before I pass out. Fill my cup, and have your brother undress you. Slowly."

A brother and sister together? How vile. It happened, Sansa knew, she heard whispers of brothers and sisters as lovers before. Then she felt ashamed. It wasn't the prostitutes' fault what their customer wanted. They had to do it, didn't they? How could they? They didn't have a choice, that's how...

"My sister is far more beautiful than any younger girl here, and far more adept at giving you pleasure. Let us show you."  
Shock verbrated through her entire being as Sansa rushed to the wall, denying the recognition of the brother's voice while her heart sank to her knees. She pressed her head against the wall, her eye widening, the cork dropping to the floor as she took in the crystal-clear scene before her eyes.

The room was indeed bright, lit with torches and lamps placed around the perimeter. It was surpisingly bare, save for a round bed centered in the middle strewn with sumptuous coverings. Tables cloaked in red shoved up against the walls held boxes of varying sizes. But up against the back wall directly in front of the bed was a chair as intricate as a throne setting on a slightly raised dais, with tables on either side; and lounging drunkenly in that seat of importance was none other than her intended husband, Lord Walder Frey. Sansa's eyes widened. He sat, legs apart, his hands clutching his arm handles, swathed in his fine linen robe. His graying hair seemed scraggly and unkempt and there were wine stains on his chin. His beady eyes glinted with lust and the sneer he displayed did nothing to help his look. For moment Sansa felt like pouting, oddly offended that Walder sought out a brothel the night before he was to wed while she was made to stay in the house as a proper virgin lady should.

Her thought left her when she looked upon the girl, identifying her from the forum: Margaery. She was beautiful, her long chestnut-brown hair tied up in gold ribbons, a few tendrils cascading enticingly around her neck. Her face was overly done in smoky cat eyes, her lips dark red. She wore the black collar at her neck and several gold bands wrapped around slim arms. Her gown was indeed see-though, pale mint-colored and delicate and sleeveless, a gold tie at her slim waist and clinging to her curves, showing the dark brown triangle between her legs. It tied in the back at her neck but was split down the middle to her waist, affording a view of her perfect skin and leaving her breasts partially exposed. She seemed like a goddess standing there and Sansa felt a prick of jealousy, but then her eyes traveled in horror to the man standing behind her, untying her gown at the nape of her neck.

Loras was as perfect as his sister, his hair neatly tied back, wearing a simple short toga that exposed his muscled arms and legs. He was barefoot and she was pleased to see his narrow, perfect feet; men usually had ugly feet, besides her brother and her cousin Jon. His sensual mouth was slack and his golden eyes were lowered, as if it took a great concentration to undo a string. 

Sansa's mouth became dry and she knew she should stop watching. She didn't want to see this. Yes, she knew Loras was a sex worker and she knew what he did - at least, had a good idea - but seeing it was different from knowing. Especially since he was with his sister. Especially since her previously soon-to-be husband was about to so something very wicked with them. She knew Loras pleasured both men and women. He admitted it during one of their little clandestine meetings and she had blushed, bowing her head and changing the subject. But still, did she want to see it? If she didn't, why wasn't she moving away?

Loras slowly slid down Margaery's top half of her gown, exposing full, dark-tipped breasts before skimming hands up to circle lightly, bringing her nipples to life before smoothing down to her waist, tugging at the string. Sansa felt flushed, remembering those smooth hands and how they would caress hers. It was the only liberty she allowed him in public, a precaution she regretted now. 

"Get on with it, boy." Walder's annoyed tone huffed at them, obviously forgetting he had commanded them to go slow. "Show me your sister's little cunt. I told you both you do what I tell you to do. No less, no more."

From behind the wall she cringed at the vulgar language used for a woman's parts but stared as Loras swiftly drew the gold rope away, leaving the gown to pool around Margaery's feet while his hands rested on her bare hips.

"Am I acceptable to you, my Master?" Marg smiled prettily as if Walder was the most handsome man in the world and his approval was desired.

"More acceptable when you open those legs for your brother, you whore. Let him lick that cunt. Boy, strip and get down on your knees and I'll tell you when to stop."

Sansa swallowed. She widened her eye while shutting her left one but nearly turned away when Loras stepped out from behind Maragery to stand beside her as he pulled at his tunic, but she couldn't. She just couldn't, not when she was able to see him completely naked. For the first time in her life she saw a completely nude man, and oh, he was glorious. He was slim but every part of him was muscled down to his narrowed waist. The only hair on him was his thatch of brown above his cock and his... cock, it was...it looked... different from the paintings and artwork on pottery that she has seen. Bigger, harder? It wasn't hanging down but pointing up... she had heard stories from the servants about a man's erection. Inadvertently her legs tightened together. How could that ever fit inside of her? Still, she couldn't deny the current of warmth rushing straight to between her legs and she bit her lip, feeling guilty but excited as well. That is, until Loras turned to kneel down before Margaery, his hands on her thighs, urging her to slightly part her legs. Sansa gasped in shock.

Loras' back was covered with scars. They ran crisscross and haphazard; raised lines of flesh. There were so many, from his shoulders down to his waist, marring his otherwise beautiful body. Sansa shuddered, horrified, wondering what had happened to him, then instantly feeling sorry and ashamed that she thought it ugly. 

"Damn, boy, you must have been a bad whore to someone. Did someone pay well to be able to do that?" Walder chuckled as he reached for his wine and Loras did not respond. He was busy crouching down, doing what he was ordered to do. Sansa's gaze concentrated on his mouth; she was getting a diagonal view of him and could see... his tongue moving through her folds. Margaery started making moans as she closed her eyes, her hands reaching to hold his head.

Sansa shifted uncomfortably.

"Eyes open. Watch your brother. Don't stop watching until he makes you cum. And I mean cum. No false show for me. Cheat me and I will pay extra to whip you both myself." Walder's sinister threat come out in a drawl but Margaery's eyes fluttered open, her smile painted on her face but even from where Sansa was, she could see the fear flash in her eyes.  
"My little bride has a brother," he offered, slurping another drink."Well, three in fact but the eldest one interests me. Once she is my wife she is my property. I can make her fuck anyone I want her to fuck. Even her brother." He coughed."Not in her cunt though. No. Her ass. Can't risk my own wife giving birth to a bastard by her own brother, can we? Can we, whore?"

"No, Master," purred Margaery, her breath hitching, gyrating her hips into Loras' mouth, who sped up his licking. The sucking sounds seemed to fill the room as he latched onto a small nub of skin, pulling it in between his teeth. The pink flesh was wet and delicate and Marg cried out.

Sansa thought it was the most sensual sight to see Margaery cum from what Loras was doing between her legs but the terror at Walder's words left her sick to her stomach. She was right to run away. He was cruel and sick and he would have forced Robb to lay with her. But Robb wouldn't. There was no way Walder could ever make him lay with her and especially not stick his cock in her ass. Sansa had heard of buggery before but thought it applied only to men. No, Robb was good and kind and he would kill Walder for even the thought of it. Would Walder make Robb lick her first? He seemed to want Loras to do it to Margaery, and judging from the tent in his tunic he enjoyed it. Her heart hammered at the thought and a shocking warmth flooded over as she imagined Robb kneeling before her. No -

"You got her good and ready for me, son. By the looks of your mouth she is wet enough to fuck. Never licked a cunt a day in my life. That is for whores to do. And brothers." His breath was starting to come in pants."Get over here, whore. Suck me while your brother fucks you. Boy, make her even more wet with your cum. I love me a messy fuck. Don't mind going second if you know what I mean. First I want my cock in that pretty mouth of yours. Then when I tell you I want you to sit on my lap, pretty one. I am an old man but I can last awhile. Fuck you raw, I will."

So much for the theory Walder would last only a moment and mercifully be done.

She did not want to see it. She did not want to see Walder's cock and she didn't want to see Loras possessing Margaery in a way he never could with her. Every night after she met him, she dreamed of how she would let him take her in his arms and make love to her, touch her. Of course her dreams always ended with kissing, nothing more.. kisses over her body... she didn't know there could be so much more. Her parents had shielded her from the outside world and the gossip she overheard about sexual encounters were so very few and far between, caught only when the servants didn't think anyone was listening. 

But she did look, she did watch as Loras moved out of the way so Margaery could drop to her knees and crawl to where Walder was seated. The old man made her pull up his tunic herself, exposing him. Sansa blanched at the sight of his wrinkly member in Margaery's lovely hands and cringed when she engulfed him down to the root as if it was the best thing ever. It wasn't small but it was ugly and at least now it was hidden in Margaery's mouth. Sansa flitted her eye over to Loras, who knelt behind his sister, grabbing her hips before sinking inside of her slowly. He was silent but Marg moaned around Walder's disgusting cock. Sansa couldn't imagine it tasted very good.

"Pretty little mouth on you, whore." Walder's hands forced Marg's head down."Fuck her harder, boy. I didn't pay for you to make love to her, did I?"

Loras increased his thrusts and Walder started grunting sporadically . It seemed to Sansa Loras' face was a mask, almost impassive, as if he were lost in thought and miles away from where he was. He bent over his sister and seemed to slip his hand down underneath them. She didn't know how long it took but Loras let out a groan and stilled; Sansa realized he came inside of his sister, but his hand was still moving. He was pleasuring Marg even as he was already done. His own sister.

Not quite sure what was happening, Sansa watched as Walder fell back into his seat, releasing his hold on Margaery. Immediately she dropped his still-hard cock out of her mouth and Loras stopped.

"Margie? Is he -"

"Passed out. Thanks be to all gods." She didn't move from her position, her hands firmly on Walder's thighs. "This one is smart, brother. And wealthy. He demanded a sloppy fuck. We did not deliver."

"Who says we didn't?"

Loras' hand started moving again, frantically. The slick sounds reached her ears and Sansa skimmed her own hand down to pull up her gown, thrusting down inside her undergarment. She found she was sopping wet and was immediately embarrassed, jerking her hand out and smoothing out her dress. She wished she had the nerve to rub her spot like Loras was doing to Margaery, who came with soft cry, her head drooping for a moment before she stood up in front of Walder.  
Loras stood, his cock softening and glistening in the torchlight. His hair was still in place, his body dry and undisturbed as he moved to stand in front of Margaery. His hand delved between her legs inserting two long fingers inside and pulling them out. They were drenched with both of their leavings. Undaunted, Loras wiped his fingers onto Walder's cock, repeating the process over and over, until Walder's cock was also glistening. The old man did not stir but instead began to snore and Margaery giggled almost girlishly.

"Sloppy fuck complete, Margie. Consider this appointment finished. We are exempt from having to clean the banquet up tonight, so let us bathe and sleep. We deserve it." He planted a brotherly kiss on her forehead.

"I cannot believe the legendary Walder Frey would pass out before he got fucked on the night before his wedding."

"What did you say? Who is this? Baelish never told me his name."

"Walder Frey, Lord and former Senator. Loras, what is the matter?"

Loras stumbled back, turning to stare at their customer.

"Frey. As in Senator Eddard Stark's ally. As in their sprawling lands connect to each other. He is getting married tomorrow...to a young noblewoman who has an older brother.. who has three brothers.."

"Loras?" Margaery reached out for her brother in confusion as he scrambled for his tunic.

"I need to find Gendry. Now."

"Gendry is no doubt at home. You cannot leave, Loras! The banquet is still going on. If Walder Frey wakes -"

"Hang Walder Frey. He's to marry Sansa, Margie. I cannot let it happen. Not after - not after all he said -"

"No! Stop, Loras, don't do anything rash. And keep your voice down." She glanced worriedly at Walder."To interfere will get you a death sentence. Leave her be! Noblemen's lives are not ours to toy with, and neither is a noblewoman's -"

"We were of noble birth, or have you forgotten? The Tyrells -"

"There is nothing left of the Tyrells but us and we are slaves. Bought and paid for. This is our life, this is where we belong. We've learned our place, haven't we? We have all we need here. Food, shelter, rich clothing, friends. We need not worry about what others do -"

"And we give our bodies to stranger every night and we are never to love. Does that not matter to you?"

"I love you. That is enough."

"I love you too, Margaery. You are my sister, my family. But there is a different kind of love that everyone deserves a chance at, whether they are a whore or a noble. Rich or poor. Slave or free."

"Then - then pick a whore here to love, or some poor girl in the streets. You cannot -"

Magaery wasn't able to finish her sentence as Loras stormed out. Sansa scurried to find the cork, shoving it back into place before sprinting over to the privacy screen, holding her breath. She was not even sure how she should react when he came barreling into his room and she wondered breathlessly how he would react when he saw her. There were so many emotions and images swirling in her head and she didn't know what to truly feel. She knew though, for the first time in her pampered life, she was homeless, hiding out in a brothel, without family or friends... yet she never felt more certain in this moment that she had done the right thing by escaping the doom that would have been her marriage to old man Frey and finding herself in Loras Tyrell's bedroom.

Moments later he entered and she cowered for a moment behind the screen before she noticed his sandals setting beside her. Sansa knew she could not hide from him so she stepped out into the open to face him. He halted, the look of shock sweeping over his face before something like shame overtook him, the blush apparent even in the dim light.

"Sansa! Sansa, I -"

She didn't wait for him to finish before she rushed to him, grabbing his face and pulling him down to her for a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Marking completed as I have no intention of continuing. I lost interest in it and only brought it back because it was requested. It was meant to be a short fic. Thanks.


End file.
